


The Dark Magic of Soulmateships

by orphan_account



Series: Witches and Crones [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - No Sgrub Session, F/F, F/M, M/M, teen for a lot of cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 20:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6581347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You get contact with your soulmate when you're twenty. It's the most noble, primal, beautiful magic that exists. Except when you have two soulmates, and one of them is a festering asshole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dark Magic of Soulmateships

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thescyfychannel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescyfychannel/gifts).



> This is for thescyfychannel as a thank you for all your hard work in organizing this swap! Thank you so, so much!

Your name is Eridan Ampora and you have been waiting for this day for a long, long time.

Everyone knows that on your twentieth birthday, you finally get access to your soulmate’s writing. Whatever they scrawl on their bodies will show up on yours, the most precious and basic form of magic known to personkind. You’ve been talking Rose’s ear off about it; you’re apprenticed to her, yeah, and she could fire you for that, yeah, being grand head mistress of the dark magiks and horrorterrors, but instead she humors you.

She even let you have your birthday off, just to discover the magic for yourself. And, of course, the first thing you did was scrawl down a number on your right arm. Your number. It was considerate, you thought, and you had waited.

Something very curious happened.

‘Why the fuck do you think I’d want your number, asshole?’ got scrawled into your right palm with rudimentary handwriting, and you had stared in shock. Nobody you were meant for could be so rude. Nobody. There had to be a mistake.

And then your cell phone rang.

“What the _FUCK_ was that about?” you had snapped. The other line was quiet for a second.

“…Excuse me?” a voice ask you. A girl kind of voice, you thought, something with the cool quality of running water, maybe a little aerated –

“You wrote it!” you hiss. “Don’t play dumb!”

“I didn’t write anyfin. It was probably Sollux.” the voice on the other end snaps back. “And if you don’t change your tuna, I’m going to hex you through the wires!”

“Write something down then. Prove it.” you say, less angry but still sulking. You hear a belabored sigh from the other side of the phone.

A little fish appears on your left palm along with a scrawl in neat, flowery cursive denoting a singular word ‘Sea?’.

“Sea?” she said, reiterating the message. “It wasn’t me!”

You stare at your hand for another few seconds. The signs always disappear, an hour at most if your partner isn’t continuously writing to you, in which case, you only have a few seconds. But you compare the scrawls, and you blink.

“Who the fuck is Sollux.” you ask, voice flat, and almost disappointed. You hadn’t counted on her knowing more than you. You hadn’t even counted on there being more than one party to this madness.

“He’s my buoyfrond! And, I guess yours now, too, seal-mate!” She titters. She actually titters. It’s really cute, but all you can feel is your glasses getting foggy as your eyes tear up, a natural response to frustration.

“This doesn’t happen.” you insist.

“It does to you!” she says back. A puff of magic sparks curl through your phone. She must actually be a really powerful witch, you think, to fuck around through scientific devices like that.

A lipstick mark smacks itself over your cheek. You touch your fingers to it and smudge it around as the dial tone comes on.

Fuchsia.

-

“It most certainly _can_ happen that way.” Rose tells you the next evening. The two of you rise at sundown, her powers at their most potent in the night. Yours are too, the two of you drawing power from the moon and stars rather than from the daylight. You’ve boiled her a bath the old fashioned way, already sprinkled it with flowers and herbs that have steeped.

The bath bombs you enchanted create showers of purple and teal sparks in the air and fill the room with the scent of sea water and nebulae. The water reflects an actual galaxy, and you have no strangeness between you as Rose strips out of her robes and climbs in.

Her skin is much darker than yours, but if you work hard, you’ll be the same colour one day. If you’re lucky.

But luck seems kind of screwy nowanights.

“There are some who find themselves promised to as many as… I believe it was five, on record. Though that’s only recorded histories.” she murmurs, her voice a calm tendril as her legs bloom into actual tendrils in the water, coiling up and gripping the sides of the cauldron. She slaps your face with a leg full of suckers. “You’ll be alright. If it was meant to work out this way, it was meant to work out this way. What colour did you say the lipstick was again?”

“Fuchsia.” you say, miserable, wiping off the residual wetness and setting her tentacle back on the pot.

“Mm, good taste. And strong magic, too. Purple is the hardest colour to transfer.”

“But what do I do?” you whine, and Rose smiles at you.

“Count your blessings.” she says, and slips below the cauldron’s surface.

-

Fuchsia lips refuses to give you her name.

Or this fucker Sollux’s number.

She tells you that if you were a really enterprising young witch, you could figure it out for yourself. Which, what the hell? You bet all she had to do was draw a couple of those cute little fish and write down her phone number and this fool Sollux probably fell all over themselves trying to call her up.

You bet, because that’s what you feel like doing. She keeps drawing these cute sea creatures on your left arm, and when you text her she uses approximately one thousand octopus emojis, but eventually you find out that she likes taro bubble tea with those enchanted bubbles that change to random flavours, and going out and dancing on the tips of waves. She’s a water witch, and also a pieces, and her favourite flower is an anemone because she thinks it’s funny to say that but also because she likes the colour.

You had flushed.

Your eyes are the colour of anemones.

-

Sollux is a real prick.

He is not a witch, or even something useful like a professional human sacrifice. He’s a fucking professional gamer, like there couldn’t be a more useless profession in the world.

You tell him that science is a laughable insult to itself, just a watered down version of magic that pathetic non-users can barely handle.

You have exactly three seconds of silence before you see your phone explode from across the room.

-

He keeps drawing dicks all over your arms.

‘Maybe you should apologize.’ your bubblier soul mate suggests in her pretty scrawl. You frown at it and draw a big X on your left palm.

Sollux keeps drawing dicks on you.

It started small, but apparently the angrier about it you started getting, the more enthusiastic his artistic endeavors. Right now you’re sporting a massive dong over your right eye and cheek, and you absolutely refuse to let this go without a fight.

Since she refuses to give you his number, texting him a nasty hex wouldn’t work. And you don’t have any method of revenge other than your body. You refuse to sink to his level.

“Well, the only method of satisfaction to me sounds like a duel.” Rose tells you while you arrange yet another bouquet of potent herbs for drying. They come directly from her wife’s garden, so you’re careful to treat them like cut glass as you twine around the ceremonial golden chording. You hang them up and watch as they wither, their life force sucked dry by the horror terrors ever lurking.

You arch an eyebrow.

“Are you allowing me to do that?” you ask. She plucks one of the sprigs of dried flowers from its placement and ties it to your wand.

“Have a _blast_.” she grins.

-

You don’t tell the girl about your meet up.

You do challenge fuck-face Sollux to come and get his uncultured ass handed to him.

Strangely enough, he suggests a little café further into the city. According to him, it’s where he spends most of his time hanging out, so at least he won’t be inconvenienced by pounding your sorry butt into the ground. Says he. You clutch your wand in your coat pocket as the bus floats you gently to the ground before zooming away.

You squint behind your sunglasses. Why the ever loving fuck does anyone come out in the day time.

Your magic isn’t as potent, but hell if you were going to back down on a challenge from a non-user. It would be like surrendering to a tiny squalling baby when you had a fully loaded gun. Laughable. Cowardly.

…Goddamn, you hate the sun.

-

There’s some lanky asshole sitting outside the café you’ve been told to meet up at. He’s got different coloured lenses and is typing away on a keyboard.

“ _Sollux_.” you state instead of ask, because for some reason, you can feel it. Your skin tingles. Your heart pounds in your chest. You attribute all of this to getting ready to literally murder a man. His gaze flicks to you before he takes his head phones off and stands up.

He’s really tall, you think. You’re really tall, but he is like. Really. Really tall.

“Let’s do this, fuckface.” he tells you, and you resist the urge to indignantly sputter in his face when you don’t have a good comeback. When he pushes in his chair, you follow him to the middle of the street.

It’s a backway, and fairly empty. You feel the sun shine hot on the back of your neck. You really, really hate the sun. And you hate this dude. You hate this Sollux, who has fucked up the beautiful magic that was supposed to give your life purpose and meaning.

He snaps his fingers and you squint in the bright light for a second before you feel a hot bolt of pain hit you square in the chest before it runs outwards.

You double back and gasp, before you realize that he was lying. That little shit was lying to you. He _IS_ a user, and _he’s a sun user_ , and you are burning mad as you send a hex flying towards him, the words barely even thought. The umbrella behind him bursts into a pile of toads.

Serves the owner of the café right, if they didn’t think to spell proof their shit. You can’t just cut corners like that, you think. Apparently Sollux isn’t thinking about that, because you just narrowly dodge a bolt that comes next to your side. It spatters sparks behind you, a shower that brushes your boots.

The two of you dance closer, hexes and jinxes and curses coming from your mouth, and a steady stream of explosives coming from his fingertips. He doesn’t even use a wand, the utter savage. He has tattoos, as if that isn’t totally gaudy.

You’re both getting ready for something awful, something that’s going to kill one or both of you, each so caught up in your own anger that you can’t even think towards anything else.

And then you both yell as you get spun upside down. His arms snap around your neck. You drop your wand and grab his waist. The both of you blink, wide eyed and dumb, until you hear the sounds of someone sucking on a bubble tea below.

“This is your get-along hex.” the girl beneath you says, all big smile and hair that’s as long as she is. She picks up your wand and swirls it, giggling as anemones bloom from the branch.

Rose is such a fucking snoop, you think.

“FF- I was going to –“ Sollux starts to lisp, and ‘eff-eff’, waves her finger at him.

“Do somefin stupid? Yeah, I can sea! Good thing Jane owns this place, or else you two would be in a lot of troutble!” she says. She’s still smiling. You watch as she carefully unwinds the anemones and tucks them into her thicket of hair.

“You must be Eridan.” she says. You nod, entranced. And okay, maybe just to avoid your voice cracking, because being this close to Sollux is definitely making you feel something that isn’t bloodlust, and it’s kind of getting to you.

“Welcome aboard our ship.” she says, sitting down at the seat Sollux was at. “I’m Feferi.”

“FF, come on –“ Sollux complains, and she does drop you. You know. Into an ungraceful heap on the cobblestones. Thankfully, at least those are enchanted to turn soft when something living is dropped on them.

“Sea-snake flippers and promise not to krill each otter!” she commands. Very, very grudgingly, and with a flush that is not at all due to shame or being kind of turned on by your mortal enemy, you both do.

“Wonderful!” Feferi chirps. “…Now _kiss_.”

You have a feeling this is going to be a long, wonderful, infuriating soulmateship.


End file.
